Perfectly Appropriate?
by beatrix-franklin
Summary: *spoilers for series 6* A certain nightdress brings back bitter sweet memories.


_**Perfectly Appropriate?**_

Patrick Turner was a smart man and his knowledge spanned vast areas from medicine to ships. But there was one thing Patrick had little knowledge of; women's nightwear. He knew he liked to admire his wife wearing it but truth be told he preferred it when she didn't. So, when Shelagh asked him to fetch her "a thin but comfortable" night gown for her stay in hospital Patrick was completely stumped. He stared at his wife's array of night gowns unsure what to do, he was tempted to take them all and let Shelagh choose. But as soon as the thought entered his head he dismissed it, though it was merely a night gown, to Patrick it was a sign that he knew how to look after his wife and bring her what she needed, when she needed it most. He eventually grabbed the light blue night gown, that appeared to be tucked away at the back of the draw, it was light so would suffice in the overly warm and stuffy hospital and he assumed it was also comfortable. He packed a few more of Shelagh's belongings, including a picture of Timothy and Angela. Just as he was about to close the suitcase he noticed his striped pyjama top poking out from beneath Shelagh's pillow. He'd been called out the night before and she'd taken to stealing whichever pyjama top he'd been wearing before he had to go, taking comfort from it much like a child did from a blanket. He tucked it in the suitcase hoping it might bring Shelagh at least some comfort when he couldn't be there during the long nights she spent alone in the hospital.

When he arrived at the hospital the sight that greeted him broke his heart, as a man of science he knew it wasn't possible but he was convinced he felt his heart shatter a little. Shelagh was curled up in a foetal position, arms wrapped around her stomach as if she were guarding her unborn child, subconsciously believing that if her arms were around her baby it could come to no harm. Tear marks stained her face even in her sleep and her worry crease was still predominant. Upon seeing her Patrick had to supress a sob, he would not cry here. Not in front of his wife. Here he had to have enough strength to see them both through this. Not wanting to wake Shelagh he set the suitcase under the bed and took residence in the chair beside her. Sensing a presence beside her Shelagh's eyelids fluttered open and relief visibly swept over her face when she saw Patrick, instinctively she reached one hand out to him, but kept the other still firmly protecting her tiny bump. For a while neither of them said anything, both too scared to voice their fears, so instead they sat clutching to one another.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Patrick eventually whispered.

"A cup of tea wouldn't go a miss," Shelagh croaked, finally moving to sit up as she responded. "it'll give me a chance to get changed while you fetch it, did you bring me a night dress?"

"Everything you asked for is in here," Patrick responded as he finally relinquished Shelagh's hand to lift the suitcase to the bed, "I'll be back in a minute," he dropped a quick kiss to her temple before he rushed off to find a cup of tea for both Shelagh and himself, allowing her a moment of privacy.

A pang of bittersweet joy hit Shelagh as she opened the suitcase to find which night dress Patrick had picked for her. The Bri Nylon nightie. The night wear that was most likely to be responsible for the little miracle growing within her, it was responsible for the both the joy and the heart break, and part of her couldn't face that. Tucked just beneath the night dress she also found Patrick's pyjama top, at this point a genuine smile crept across her face for the first time in hours. In even the face of adversity Patrick knew it was the small things she needed to bring her comfort. Instinctively she shed herself of the hospital nightgown she'd been given and grown to despise and pulled Patrick's top over her head, she crawled back into bed feeling as if both her and her child were wrapped in his embrace.

"What's all this then?" Patrick questioned when he returned, prompting Shelagh to look sheepishly down at her hands.

"Well the night dress you packed was hardly appropriate Patrick," she gently scolded, "it hardy covers my bump let alone … anything else," her eyebrow raising as the last two words were spoken. It was that moment Patrick realised which night gown he had chosen, a myriad of memories flashed through his mind as he remembered just how short it was. He refrained from making the perfectly appropriate comment that danced on the end of his tongue as he saw the flash heartbreak in Shelagh's eyes. He didn't need to query why, he could read her like a book.

"I've always found you quite fetching in my pyjama tops anyway," he half laughed, in that moment he needed to try anything to see even a hint of happiness back in her eyes, "you look almost as good as I do in them." She laughed then, it was faint and barely broke through the silence of the ward, but it was laughter nevertheless. She knew in that moment that no matter what happened she would always have Patrick by her side, her much-needed light in the darkness.

Shelagh drifted in and out of sleep throughout the day, and Patrick only left her side when necessary.

It was late morning the next day before Shelagh awoke, yet she awoke to find a box at the end of her bed. Tentatively she opened the box revealing an elegant yellow night dress. She couldn't help but be reminded of the sun flower that had been attached to Angela's cot; she'd favoured yellow ever since. Beneath the gown lay a note.

"I hope this is perfectly appropriate, yours always P x"


End file.
